Ugly
by Tainted Wicked
Summary: Sirius thinks he is ugly. James agrees. WARNING: swearing, Sirius/James/Remus slash, no explicit content. Post-resurrection ficlet set during the second VoldWar. Written for a "first line" challenge. Complete.


"James, stop saying that. I look like shit now! Azkaban ruined me, all right? There is no fucking way you're still attracted to me. I...LOOK...HORRIBLE!"

Sirius's yell echoed shrilly in the near-empty, cavernous room, and then there was dead silence.

Remus was first to recover, shaking his head slightly and turning the page of his book. "I think we may have had this conversation once too many times, Sirius."

Sirius glowered.

James cleared his throat. "If that's how you feel, Sirius, then I guess that's just how it is."

Sirius's head whipped around, his eyes bulging. "What?!"

"Well, you said it," James said, shrugging. "You look like shit now."

Remus's book dropped off his lap, fell to the floor, and made a valiant attempt to nip his bare toes. "James, what are you saying?"

"We might as well admit it, Remus," James said, just as calmly as before. "Azkaban didn't do anything for his looks. Neither did lying in a coffin for seventeen years do anything for mine. Or three decades' worth of full moons for yours."

Remus stared at him.

Over on the bed, Sirius scowled, his knuckles white over fistfuls of bedsheets.

"Nearly a year in a frigid, damp dungeon isn't doing much for any of us, come to think of it," James continued, apparently unperturbed. "If it ever comes time for us to leave here, I expect we'll be more sallow and pale than Snape."

Silence.

"Maybe we should blame Harry. If it wasn't for his foolishness, Remus would be setting up a cozy household with Nymphadora, Sirius would be blissfully unaware of his own existence, and I would still be dead." James paused thoughtfully. "Except for that one day a year when I would wake up, realize where I was, try to claw my way out of a steel coffin, run out of air, and spend my last few moments of consciousness wondering if my year-old son was buried somewhere next to me."

The only sound when he finished was the steady dripping of water down the slimy walls.

"If," James continued after what seemed like eternity, "after all that, I choose to find beauty and comfort in the face of my lover, I certainly understand if some might consider it rather absurd. I, for one, often find myself quite certain that at least two of us currently in this room are more suited for being strapped down to a bed in St. Mungo's for the rest of our days, instead of lolling around in bed as if the world wasn't going to hell just a few meters above our heads."

Finished, James leaned back in the armchair, gazing steadily at the other two men.

The tension slowly left Sirius's body, and he, too, leaned back, settling against the mound of pillows at the head of the bed. "All right, then. I believe we've just established we're three of the ugliest buggers who've ever dwelled in this here suite -- former owner included, hard as that is to swallow. Thank you, James Potter."

Remus blinked, opening his mouth apparently to inquire if Sirius, too, had lost his mind.

"No, no --" Sirius put up a hand to stop any interruptions. "I mean it. I do. If James Potter declares that it is so, it must be so." He sniffed airily. "Of course, we always knew Remus was a bit lacking as far as looks go..."

Remus's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"James said it, not I," Sirius said, waving him off.

Remus snorted. "You two... I don't know what you get out of it, putting each other down. It never was amusing when we were at school, and nostalgia fails to endear it to me now. But, fine, if you are ugly, then I'm ugly too. Satisfied?"

"Perfectly," Sirius said huffily.

"Yes," James echoed. "Perfectly."

"Good. Maybe the bathroom will be free more often now, if you two are done with your hair tonics and your foot balms and whatnot."

Sirius looked insulted.

"None of them will ever make you look like you did before Azkaban, Sirius."

"Then what did you humor me for?" Sirius barked at James, who was nodding his agreement. "Huh? What for?"

"I thought they made you feel better," James said, shrugging. "I thought it would show you I still thought you were worth it." He stopped, shaking his head. "You're worth everything to me. Wrinkles, scars, gray hair -- I don't see any of it when I look at you. We don't need to be just as we were; when I look at you that's what I see, still." He cocked his head to one side. "What do you see when you look at me? A corpse recently crawled out from under the ground?"

Sirius stared back at him, his lips thinning into a white line. "Don't be ridiculous. You haven't aged, James. Not one year. Not one fleck of gray. As soon as you get out into the sun for a bit..." He let the words trail.

"If gray is what scares you, Sirius," Remus said before James could reply, "then I shudder to think what you must see when you look at me." He ran a scarred hand through his hair, laughing mirthlessly. "Don't worry, James won't have a black hair left on his head before this war is over."

"Thanks," James muttered.

"You're welcome," Remus returned, shutting his book resolutely and pulling the leather cord tight around it before it could snap at his fingers. "Now, can we get to bed, perhaps? I do believe it must be past midnight."

Sirius scooted back on the bed to make room for Remus. He was still scowling.

"Coming, James?"

James sighed, then nodded. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

No one answered him.

Stripping off his clothes, he sidled up to Remus. "Get the light, will you, Sirius?"

The darkness was complete.

It felt suffocating.

The fire in two sconces, one on each side of the bed, flared back to life simultaneously.

"Why do you bother?" Remus asked quietly, propping himself up on his elbows to look at James and Sirius. "Is it just to torture yourselves? Or is it some game to see which one of you will stand it the longest?"

They seemed to consider this, not meeting each other's eyes.

"Go to sleep, Remus," James said finally, heaving a sigh and pulling the duvet up to his chin. "It's not worth another argument. Good night."

On the other side of the bed, Sirius had turned over onto his back, staring up at the shadows the fire cast on the low ceiling.

"Well... Good night, then," Remus said, not sounding satisfied. "Good night, Sirius."

There was silence again, broken only by their breathing and the endless sound of water dripping onto stone.

"Because I can chase it away, now."

Remus, who had settled into James's embrace, raised his head sharply. "What's that, Sirius?"

"The darkness." Sirius's voice sounded distant. "I can chase it away with the flick of my wand, and find the two of you waiting when it's gone."

Remus was quiet for a long moment before reaching out to scoop Sirius closer to him. "That's great, Sirius. Just don't forget... we're with you even in the dark."

Sirius sighed heavily. "I know it. But you were with me in Azkaban, too, Moony. Young and laughing and always out of reach, taunting me with everything I'd lost. Now I can see you, just as you really are, and know you aren't going to fade away the next time I blink my eyes."

"Like us better ugly, do you?" James muttered over Remus's shoulder.

"Like you better... real."


End file.
